John's New Pet
by The Posh Pancake
Summary: My first 'One Shot' fan fiction. Slightly upsetting at the start. It's a bit of smut Johnlock/Fawnlock. I hope you enjoy it, it's not yet completed so I will update it as continue to write it. Please comment your views and reviews. Remember: If you like my fan fiction - 'like' my Facebook page, 'Dr. John and Mr. Lock Fan Fiction'. Please read, enjoy and fangirl. The Posh Pancake


Chapter 1: Memories

It's been two months since the Reinchenbach Fall happened. And John's life at 221B was drawing a close. Tonight was the night John finally gave up on waiting for HIM to come back. John's last night in 221B. He knew that he had to give up - had to let go. He out of everyone knew that once someone died, they weren't coming back. No matter how much you wished or how long you wait.

The night went on, growing darker and darker. The time went on later and later. The rain kept on going getting heavier and heavier. As John's heart got colder the roaring fire got warmer.

John sat in his chair facing Sherlock's for the last time. Staring into thin air. Wishing - wanting HIM to sit back there, talking nonsense, loathing his brother, playing his violin, in his mind palace - ANYTHING! John missed Sherlock and his madness. Everything he ever did - slicing organs, setting things on fire, throwing people out of the window or shooting the walls - John loved it. That WAS his life. HE was his life.

One small tear rolled down John's cheek from the flood of memories that bust through his head. He stood up and walked round the flat. He couldn't look at anything without it giving him a flashback of memory. On the mantle piece - a dusty box of Cluedo. As he sat down with it, he placed it down on his lap and opened the box and looked through the pieces. Every piece came with its own little giggle and smile. The box was then placed on the floor beside his chair. On the arm of Sherlock's chair, Sherlock's violin. John reached across and held it and plucked a few strings. It's not the same without Sherlock.

John started to speak to the skull. Microwaved some leftover thumbs. He then went through Sherlock's possessions. And re-read Sherlock's website. Poor John. Even when Mrs. Hudson came up to check on him - he completely blanked her and he refused her tea and biscuits! It was clear he missed HIM, wanted HIM, needed HIM.

3 AM - time for bed. John picked up Sherlock's dressing gown off one of the living room tables and clutched it tightly, then smelt it. Sherlock's scent on the fabric was very comforting. So comforting in fact - John wore it and went to be in it. But not to his bed, he went to Sherlock's bedroom. Just before John cocooned himself within the duvet that once kept his roommate warm, he went through his draws, cupboards and other storage. There was nothing there out of the 'ordinary' that he kept in his room - with the exception of one thing. In the top draw of his bed side table, Sherlock kept John's lucky red pants. John 'lost' them weeks ago, and it turned out that Sherlock had them all along. They weren't used or anything. Sherlock just kept them for keepsake.

John covered himself in Sherlock's duvet. The smell of his sweat and odour made him feel protected once more. It was almost like he was there. But without the touch of his silky soft skin, the constant drumming of his heartbeat, the beautiful base of his husky voice or the tender feeling of his curls. And John drifted into a light sleep.

Three knocks at the door of 221B as thunderstruck.

John was annoyed and tired. All he wanted was to spend one last night at home and now he had someone at the door.

John crawled out of bed and managed his way down the stairs to open the front door to the storm. Only to find no-one there. John looked down at he's feet - to not just see them there.

There was a sealed cardboard box with some air holes punctured in. John being his curious self, brought it into the flat even with the unknown of what could be inside the box. He got out his Swiss Army knife and cut open the box - only to find a creature in there, shivering, wet, cold and very frightened.


End file.
